The duo smiled greatly as they left the armorer, with a newfound appreciation for their equipment, they decided to go to the Guild Hall as the general goods store Ryder was planning to visit was locked.

“You still need armor but a shield is better than nothing I suppose,” Ryder said.

Durge twirled his sharpened sword, “We can wait on the armor, I haven’t been damaged yet and don’t plan on it anytime soon.”

“You’re going to get some weird glances from others when you start wearing that helmet.”

“Yeah, no kidding. People are going to think I’m some half-beast Meld with fluffy ears and a puffy tail.”

Ryder laughed, “That’ll be the day.”

As they approached the decadent Hall and surrounding fields, Ryder noticed warriors sparring and dueling one another. Two fighters in full plate armor were at a standstill. With closed visors and yellow plumes, one held a greatsword while the other was armed with a halberd.

Durge and Ryder went over to the small crowd that gathered.

“Guess this’ll be our entertainment for the night,” Durge said.

“It better be, I don’t need you spending more gold for your nightly pleasures when we still need supplies.”

The fighters gave swift but glancing blows to one another. The one wielding a greatsword was circling his foe methodically. The halberd user stepped toward him and tried striking him with a downward attack. The other fighter gracefully sidestepped and advanced with his sword while there was an opening.

The man with the halberd speedily blocked with the other side of his pole and followed it with a great smack with the side of his axe head. As the sword fighter flung to the dirt, Ryder and the crowd pushed him to his feet while Durge and the others rallied behind the underdog.

The swordsman was dazed but determined to fight again. As he raised his sword, the other fighter’s halberd flashed bright orange as if it was fresh from the forge. With a heaping swing, the halberd melted through the swordsman’s blade and through one of his wrists.

The greatsword fell in two as the man’s hand lay next to it. The fighter was screaming in agony while the crowd was in shock. The swordsman squirmed on the ground next to Ryder’s feet as everyone crowded around him. Mages rushed to the front but the man was quivering and tugging at Ryder’s pant leg.

The swordsman was muttering something through his screams and the hissing of his metal gauntlet but Ryder couldn’t hear through the warrior’s metal mask.

Ryder lifted the man’s visor and saw the weeping elf mouth the word “Potion.”

Ryder immediately snapped the small vial off his neck and poured the red liquid down his throat. The elf immediately calmed down for a mere moment as the white-cloaked mages began pressing against his wound. A vibrant orange and yellow glow poured from their hands and into the elf’s flesh. The arm was closing and bright pink tissue began to form.

The crowds were screaming at the fighter with the halberd but he looked just as shocked as the elf he wounded. He pleaded that it was an accident but the crowd kept berating him with weapons drawn.

Durge placed the broken sword next to the elf as his arm was being wrapped with cloth. The elf’s eyes were closed but he still twitched and grimaced through the pain.

The duo backed away when the swordsman was being put on a stretcher and carried down the street by the mages. They were both in disbelief.

“Do they all end that way?” Durge said.

Ryder exhaled heavily, “The man’s halberd was enchanted and broke through the elf’s guard… How unfortunate.”

“Well that was entertaining, let’s drown our sorrows and drink to the elf’s hand.”

The two walked inside the Guild Hall as initially intended, the cheerful aura was ever-present, contrasting with the gloomy and dark atmosphere outside. The quest board was empty and Rose wasn’t present, but full tankards and simple bowls of stew heightened their morale.

Few of the adventurers were retelling the story of the duel, all with blemishes and their own version of the event.

The two filled their bellies first before they began eyeing the shop in the corner. It housed simple travel supplies and specialized gear that an adventurer would need. Ryder was surprised to see it open and attended by the shopkeep, a bearded heavyset human in a bright green tunic. He was currently hounding and explaining his wares to other members of the Hall.

As Ryder was getting off the barstool his back bumped into a figure that loomed behind him. Bumbling like a fool, he said his apologies but was met with a stare from a scale-beast’s piercing green eyes. Its vertical pupils paralleled the scars running down its face.

The beast's forked tongue flicked through the air before it spoke in a raspy and breathy voice, “You the plainskin that aided Catwood?”

Ryder grew nervous as four other members of varying species were staring him down. He saw the shimmering necklaces they all adorned, a solid gold dog tag.

“Well all I did was give him a potion I really didn’t do—”

The reptile grew a great smile, its razor-sharp maw peeking out from its lips, “Potion-Giver!”

The other four members cheered and raised their weapons, igniting the entire Hall to give a bellowing cheer.

“We shall reward you for your aid. We shall take the debt of your purchases from the supply store,” the beast said.

A human slapped Ryder along the shoulder, “It’s a shite store but it’s convenient for any journey! Hear, hear for the Potion-Giver!" The crowd echoed the cheer.

Ryder grew a confused smile and awkwardly clanked his tankard with theirs as they eventually left the duo and ascended the private balcony area. Durge smirked and returned to his ale.

“Haven’t even done a second quest and you already received a nickname,” Durge said.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Ryder retorted.

“You did a good deed without thinking twice of it, I suppose it’s rare around these parts. But I’d rather not hear about it all night. Let’s get your supplies and go to bed, I’m missing my Starora already.”

“Gross.”

The duo strolled into the shop within the Guild Hall, it was sizable but seemed cluttered with the variety of wares upon the shelves and cases. It held anything an adventurer needed: torches, blankets, pillows, bags, tools, canvas, rope, hooks, compasses, lanterns, daggers, arrows, bolts, dry provisions, and potions.

They couldn’t grab one thing before the shopkeep started breathing down their necks, “Ahh the Potion-Giver, if I do recall. The hero of the night! As the Verdure Guild has covered any of your expenses, please browse and inquire if you need anything! If you need any more potions, I am happy to oblige! You won’t find this type of convenience anywhere else!”

Ryder swirled one of the red vials the merchant had in stock, it was the same size as Rhena’s but it seemed lighter and not as viscous. “How much are these usually?” he asked.

“five gold per vial. When you buy in bulk I shave a few coins off,” the merchant winked.

Ryder pocketed two health potions as Durge was eyeing the rope and torches.

“The rope is frayed at the ends and the torches look like they were already used,” Durge pointed out.

“Good thing we’re not paying for it. Just grab what you can. I’ll get the camping gear.”

As Durge was stuffing his bag full of rope, the merchant spoke in a nervous voice. “Now there is a limit to what you can take. I have other customers after all.”

Durge side-eyed the man as he put four torches and two bundles of rope in his rucksack.

Ryder came with a mountain of supplies in his arms; two large sheets of canvas, four blankets, three pillows, and one large bag to carry it all in.

Durge began working on bagging the food for their eventual journey. The shopkeeper only had dried meat, hardtack, and pine nuts. In Durge’s mind, he only imagined himself eating these in dire circumstances. He hated hardtack; the few times the sailor’s at the Locrian taverns forced him to try it, he felt as if he could taste a summer’s drought.

After grabbing a pound of each type of provision, Durge eyed a dagger but, to the relief of the merchant, he decided against it. Ryder was waiting outside, adjusting the straps on his bags.

“You can get a lantern if you want,” Ryder said to Durge

The merchant looked distraught.

“Ehh sounds like a bad omen to have one after what we went through. You still got your striker. We can make campfires or use torches.”

“Well, I’m ready when you are then.” Ryder turned to the shopkeeper, “It’s been a pleasure, merchant.”

“Come back soon…”

“And not a single coin spent! Is my gold finally free from your needs, my treasurer?” Durge said sarcastically.

Ryder rolled his eyes but cracked a smile, “Do with what meager coinage you have left to your heart's content. I’ll be saving mine for a horse and wagon.”

As they were about to exit the Guild Hall, a brunette clerk with green eyes rushed over to them.

“Pardon me, but the Manager would like to speak with you two,” she said in a hurried voice.

“What about?” Durge asked with a raised eyebrow.

“If you would please follow me,” the clerk insisted.

Sweat formed at the back of Ryder’s neck, making his shirt collar damp.

All voices within the tavern turned silent as the duo stepped behind the counter.

In the dimly lit backrooms, it housed cleaning supplies such as brooms and buckets along with a multitude of shelves and chests that held books and scrolls alike.

The clerk opened the double doors in the far back of the room, closing them quickly when Ryder and Durge stepped inside. The room was large and properly furnished. Candle stands lined the corners, a rug of an unknown creature lay on the hardwood floor, and two leather chairs faced a wide oak desk.

A man with slick-backed hair, a curled mustache, and a black suit sat on the opposite side of the desk. His fingers interlocked with themselves until he gestured for the duo to sit.

It was eerily quiet as the guild manager peered over them.

“You’re the talk of the tavern, Potion-Giver.” the manager said in a deep voice. “But that is not why I called you both here. On the last quest you were on, a Brass-Ranked sorceress and fighter joined you two. Either guiding or abusing you, I care not. Tell me what happened to them. Is your report true? Did you kill them?”

Ryder’s leg was shaking profusely.

“We didn’t kill shit. They raised the dead, the dead attacked us, and the cavern started collapsing from some arcane fuckery that Sindara started. We left. They didn’t. We didn’t kill them,” Durge declared.

Durge’s voice entered through one of the manager’s ears and exited out of the other. He stared at Ryder, the suspicious boy who was looking at the ground.

Ryder tightly gripped the arm of the chair, “I ruined her spell! I stole one of her amplifiers and that’s why the undead started attacking us. Hadic and Sindara died because of me.”

The manager leaned back in his chair.

“You didn’t steal shit, Rye! And that fucking cockhead Hadic antagonized them. They didn’t care about the quest or us.”

The manager exhaled loudly, “I care not if you killed them or not. The fact of the matter is that I am out of two Brass-Ranks. Usually, we wouldn’t bat an eye. But the Guild Hall took great interest in them, they were promising members, steadily on the course to becoming Glorious.”

He opened a desk drawer and gently laid a sheet of parchment on the top of the desk. It looked exactly like any ordinary quest note.

“Few are taken back here and fewer are given a quest. One of my clerks held on to this for you. I see potential in you two but I see no experience. Change that.”

As they took the quest note and sat up from their chairs, the manager stopped them.

“One more thing,” a clang of chain and ceramic fell on his desk. “One of the clerks said to give you these.”

It was the dog tags that Ryder purchased. They were ovular and inscribed on the clay were their names and Star-ID. Durge scoffed but gratefully put it on.

As they exited the manager’s chambers and came from behind the front desk, the Hall was still quiet, spare for a few murmurs and whispers.

Awkwardly standing in the open with the eyes of hundreds staring at them, Ryder raised the parchment and exclaimed “We have a quest to settle!” to the drunken crowd.

They all raised their mugs and bellowed once again for the hero of the night, eventually returning to their chitchats and gossip.

“Happy Hunting and fare well!” the guild clerk said as the duo exited.

They breathed a sigh of relief when they walked into Dreadful Dreams. A small fire was crackling in the lobby and they plopped themselves in the worn chairs in front of it.

“What’s that quest say, Rye?” Durge asked.

Ryder finally had the time and energy to read it. “Reward is 25 pearls. Slaying Quest. Slaying slimes for the local populace of Drupeton. Please bring a signed note from Mayor Rainier that declares the completion of the quest before returning to Maria’s Guild Hall. Time Limit 2 weeks. Threshold Clay.”

“Slimes? This is all we get? Can’t we fight something else besides pests? Like giant rats or spiders or something,” Durge huffed

“Those are still pests.”

“Okay, what about giant bats instead?”

“Still a pest.”

“Squirrels!?”

“Pest.”

“Goblins!?”

“Eh. More of a nuisance than a pest.”

Durge groaned, “And we’re only getting 14 gold each, is this place close by?”

Ryder shook his head at his companion’s mathematical skills, “I feel like I’ve heard of Drupeton before but we’ll have to ask someone.”

Skel conveniently entered the building, using a skewer as a toothpick.

“Where’s Drupetown at, Skel?” Durge asked from within the chair.

“West. Follow Lake Cherry, it’s right below the mountain.”

“Thanks, Skel,” Ryder said.

The orc groaned as he sat behind his desk, “You two better pay in advance if you want to keep your rooms. It’ll take four days to get there and back.”

Instead of spending double for two beds while questing, they agreed to only rent out one room while they were gone. They wanted a space to safely stash their possessions and have peace of mind that someone else didn’t spoil their bed the night before arrival.

Ryder and Durge handed six gold in total, for tonight and the days of travel.

With only a handful of coins in their pockets now, they returned to their rooms. Durge was saddened by the lack of funds to purchase the starora’s services, but he vowed to hire her again when he returned.

Ryder set his bow and quiver down, he was nervous about using it, but he promised to train in the coming days. As he lay in his bed, the usual stream of thoughts flowed through his mind. Treasurer? Potion-Giver? What else do I do? I haven’t slain anyone or anything yet. Durge can do it with ease and be confident enough that he’ll never take a single scratch. One day I’ll show him that I’m a force to be reckoned with too. Not just a Potion-Giver, but a life-taker as well.